


Road Rage, Winter Soldier Style

by groffiction



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: As in eventually helps, Basically crack and smut with a pinch of angst, Bucky has a mouth on him, Bucky has issues with idiots on the road, Epic sarcasm, Excessive potty mouth Bucky, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit sex on a motorcycle, In so many positions, M/M, Might have some mentions of Civil War but not much, Non descript violence, Not Infinity Wars or Endgame compliant, Road Rage, Some Fluff, Steve helps, This takes place after The Winter Soldier but is completely au, crack humor, in so many ways
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groffiction/pseuds/groffiction
Summary: “Get back here ASSHOLE! FUCKING USE YOURGODDAMNBLINKERYOU PIECE OF SHIT! See if I save your ungratefulsanctimoniousass next time!” Bucky all but roared out the window at the smirking jackass that had just cut him off. Bucky’s blood boiled when the prick up and proceeded to flip him off. Oh Bucky was going tocuta bitch.An hour later….“See, this is why we don't let you drive anymore, Buck,” Steve admitted dryly, getting a moody scowl for his efforts.“Hey, it could have been worse. I could have thrown a grenade at him but you said for me to be polite so ripping his steering wheel out was the best choice of action, Stevie,” Bucky replied.Sam nodded slowly. “Glad to know that I am not the only one that that has happened to.”Or the five times Bucky gets road rage and the one time Steve does something about the former Winter Soldier’s frustration, coincidentally on Sam's motorcycle. Yea, Sam was so going to kill them both.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, big thank you to my babes on Discord and Tumblr who were making me cackle and giving me way too many ideas for this. I just got to thinking about what if poor Bucky had to adjust to driving in New York and it all went down into the shithole and gutter bend from there. Hope you all enjoy the crack and smut. Smut will come in later chapters, but for now, enjoy some crack and some angst. Let me know if you see anything that needs to be tagged. Banner was put together by me. This takes place after Winter Soldier, though not compliant with Avengers Ultron or any other later movie. I might pick and chose what I want from some of Civil war, etc but basically this is all AU. Without further ado, enjoy ;)

### 

1.

 

Adjusting to life in the 21st century isn’t easy on most people that survive through it, but it’s even worse when you were 1) in fact over one hundred years old and 2) had the biggest chip on your shoulder known to man or alien. Bucky was one of those rare individuals that had a hard time adjusting. Of course he’d say that he was adjusting just fine, and most of the time he was. Life living in the Avengers tower, surrounded by a growing companionship of superhero types of friends that were finally beginning to trust him and include him as family, well that was pretty great.

Even missions weren’t so bad, now that his brain finally got to a point semi stable wise. It was good enough for him, and of course good enough for Steve and the others.

But, there were just some things that really _bothered_ Bucky. 

Like just how weird some of the food tasted nowadays, and perhaps trying to figure out how to man the hundreds of remotes for various tvs and stereos, etc that Tony had in his tower without accidentally pushing the wrong button and ending up rocket launching one of Tony’s suits. That had been special the first time it had happened. And even the second and third. And there was no way in hell’s outhouse that he was even going to _BEGIN_ to tell JARVIS what to do. He might feel welcome in Tony’s tower, but he sure as hell didn’t trust that seemingly all knowing computer. 

He knew how to use computers just fine, thank you very much. But, if he didn’t have to use them that much, that was fine with him. Seriously, how in the fuck did Steve already have whatever it was that was called a Facebook account? Granted, Steve had had a bit more time out of the ice than he had had out of the Winter Soldier brainwashed state, so maybe he should give himself a little bit of slack here. 

Even all that wasn’t so bad.

Now… when it came down to being on the road - as in driving, that was where the kicker really held some of Bucky’s frustrations. Ok, maybe more than just some. 

He’d done his driving test back in the late thirties, same as Steve, and in this day in age, he had retaken it to make sure he knew all the rules. If there was one thing that Bucky loved, was _structure_. Even before Hydra snatched him up and turned him into their psycho bitch murder child, Bucky had enjoyed having plans. So, when he took his driver’s test on the same day that Steve had decided to do his, Bucky was all smiles when he got his brand new shiny New York Drivers License. The fact that Tony had got them express ordered and printed meant that he already had it waiting for him before he even stepped foot into the Motor Vehicles place.

Perks of having one of the brainiest, wealthiest men in the US as his friend and comrade.

However, once he got out on the road with Steve that first day, they had taken turns driving Steve’s old beat up Bug. Which didn’t quite end well. The fact that Steve had driven that piece of crap tin can around a year ago when the both of them and Sam were on the run for a while without an updated license made Bucky feel more fondness than he should for his best friend. But two things that Bucky noticed while behind the wheel of that cramped vehicle, was that 1) everyone out on the road besides them were complete and utter _idiots_ and 2) he was going to fucking lose his shit and _die_ of a heart attack or spontaneous combustion from his cresting blood pressure due to said idiots.

Bucky loved driving, but he hated people driving out there with him.

How in the fuck did some of these lunatics think they knew how to drive? Did they have absolutely no sense of direction, and did they not have more common sense than a spastic gnat trying to fuck a _lightbulb_? How did these asshats manage to survive - much less sleep at night with the way they drove without a care in the world besides what was on their phone that Bucky swore was attached to them twenty four seven? In a way Bucky had been impressed by how stupid people in the 21st century were as motorists. But, then he was also, very very nervous to be out there with that kind of populace. And when Bucky finally got over feeling sorry for himself and binging on doritos and oreos for ten straight days, he put his big Winter Soldier pants on and got with the program.

And he got with the program alright. He got so good at it that at first, everyone in the Avengers tower were excited to be with him while he was driving. And boy did that make him feel useful, and even loved. But then, suddenly… people stopped wanting to ride with him so much.

Apparently, road rage is _frowned_ upon in the Avenger’s establishment.

That’s right, Bucky suffered from high intensity road rage issues. 

The first person to nope the fuck out of riding with Bucky whenever he was behind the wheel was Bruce. Of course, that might be a bit understandable considering the poor guy already dealt with enough anger management and anxiety issues as it was. He didn’t need any of Bucky’s insistent urge to rant and rave at the local moronic populace. 

The second person to ditch Bucky was Nat. And you _know_ if Nat decided not to ride with you while driving, then you definitely had some _issues_. Bucky still tried not to take that too hard.

The both of them were still friends but Nat definitely drew the line when it came to Bucky’s “volatile and reckless road rage”. But, in his defense, Bucky admitted that at least he hadn’t you know, killed anyone yet. So there was a silver lining to that. Wasn’t there?

Nat had flat out glowered at him, which had made him bristle a bit, but then cave. He knew better than to go against a Widow when they had their foot planted firmly in one of their beliefs. So, he let it go.

However, he did NOT let it go when Wanda, Clint, and Scott bailed on him. And then even Pepper, bless her heart, had opted to try and set him up with counseling on his road rage. Did Bucky ever go to said sessions? No, but he appreciated her intentions. 

Soon his list of people that were ok with his driving dwindled down to Tony, Thor, Steve, and Sam. The last two of that quad squad were extremely picky on when and where he could drive. Like, going to the store, or even going for a bite to eat was well thought out and usually happened after or before rush hour and definitely not during. 

To tell you the truth, that kind of hurt Bucky’s feelings, but he couldn’t help feeling the way he did out on the road.

At least everyone didn’t seem to mind when he flew their asses around for missions. That, they at least trusted him with.

Finally though, Bucky had had enough. He wanted to drive, and he wanted to actually feel useful and helpful so he asked (demanded) Steve if he could drive them to go see a movie at their favorite old movie theatre which shockingly was still around. “Come on, Stevie, we haven’t gone to an actual movie theatre in over seventy years. And it’s only a Monday night, so you know, I will be less likely to endanger you guys or make you feel uncomfortable.”

Sam arched a brow at Steve and the two shared a long understanding look before Sam said softly, “I’ll have to miss this one. I got something I need to do, so you two go on and have fun.”

Steve then looked over at Bucky and said softly, “Buck, it’s not that you will endanger us….”

“Save it Stevie. I know I can lose my head sometimes out there on the road. I’m trying to do better,” Bucky said, feeling a bit downtrodden. 

Steve couldn’t handle it when Bucky looked so sad or unsure of himself. To this day the poor man couldn’t pull a poker face even if he tried. Yea, he might try and be brave for Steve - and only Steve, but the Captain could see through Bucky’s facade with ease. Sometimes when Steve would catch Bucky looking off in the distance when he thought no one else was looking, and he would see the lost, heartbreakingly emotional expressions run over his face. It was enough to make Steve vow to do anything to help Bucky feel better. Feel wanted. Feel loved. In any way possible. Yea, they all were broken people who lived in the Avengers tower, but Buck was special to Steve.

Maybe he wouldn’t be able to fix Bucky, but he could make his life feel less out of control.

So, Steve smiled and tugged his best friend into a hug, saying softly, “Ok Buck. Tell you what. If we go to the movies and back without you losing it, then I’ll let you drive me to Philly to see a late season baseball game. I just got us tickets, so it’d be you and me pal.”

Bucky brightened and smiled big. “You are a fucking sap, you know that? But, if that isn’t motivation, nothing is. I’ll get us back in one piece, I promise.”

 _That’s not quite what I am worried about,_ Steve thought, but shared a grin and followed Bucky down to the garage.

### 

“Get back here ASSHOLE! FUCKING USE YOUR _GODDAMN_ **BLINKER** YOU PIECE OF SHIT! See if I save your ungrateful _sanctimonious_ ass next time!” Bucky all but roared out the window at the smirking jackass that had just cut him off. Bucky’s blood boiled when the prick up and proceeded to flip him off. Oh Bucky was going to _cut_ a bitch.

“Bucky, calm down,” Steve said, wincing when Bucky flat out glowered at him with almost literal icy blue daggers flaring out of his eyes.

“Steve, wHaT do YoU mean _calm_ down?” Bucky snarled. “Where in the fuck of history has that phrase succeeded in calming a mildly semi-unstable hundred year old asshole _down_?”

“Well, can’t help a guy for trying,” Steve replied. “We can do this all day, but I’d rather get back home in one piece….”

 

_An hour later…._

 

“See, this is why we don't let you drive anymore, Buck,” Steve admitted dryly, getting a moody scowl for his efforts. 

“Hey, it could have been worse. I could have thrown a grenade at him but you said for me to be polite so ripping his steering wheel out was the best choice of action, Stevie,” Bucky replied, still full on sulking and nursing his frayed nerves. “And I am _NOT_ going to apologize for that. That smug ass turd-bitch had it coming and if he wasn’t going to drive responsibly, then I was going to make sure he didn’t drive at all and endanger other poor fucks out there.”

Steve let out a deep sigh and let Bucky rant and rave. It was best to let Bucky do so rather than let him keep it all bottled up. Once inside the tower, as they were going up the elevator, Bucky took a few deep breaths and looked a bit calmer, and even a bit sheepish. “Fuck, I screwed it all up, didn’t I?” 

When Steve nodded slowly, Bucky felt a bit worse. “We are still going to the game, though right?”

“Yea. Just not with you behind the wheel. I’m going to drive us,” Steve said, causing Bucky to relax a bit. 

It could have been worse. Steve could have just ended up not going with him to see the game. “Might be better that way anyways. You’ve seen me park. I don’t like crowded garages, so parking at a stadium where there might be a fuck ton of people is not my idea of a fun situation.” 

Bucky was trying. He really _was_. Steve snorted and admitted, “Tell me about it. The last time we went downtown and you tried parallel parking, that had ended in a total disaster. I am still wondering if that SUV owner knew their vehicle was actually picked up and moved back further so you could have an easier time of it.”

“Well, it’s better than throwing that moron’s SUV across the way into that Starbucks,” Bucky deadpanned, which caused Steve to start laughing. Bucky scowled a bit and added, “Plus, who the fuck does that? Not only was the fucker a full _two feet_ away from the curb so I nearly took off their side view _mirror_ , but also, they parked over the line and was taking up two spaces. In _downtown_. Where there is **LITERALLY** no parking during certain times of the day. And I wasn’t going to go park four miles away in a seedy old abandoned garage just to see that damned exhibit at the museum.”

“God, Bucky, if you ever got a job as a traffic control cop, people would kill you from all the tickets you’d be handing out,” Steve said with a teasing grin. 

“Oh shut up, punk,” Bucky said, nudging Steve hard enough to make the man budge. Steve still was getting used to that. Having someone almost stronger than him or perhaps slightly stronger than him being able to move him like that. Besides Bruce and maybe a few others in the Avengers, Bucky was one who could do that.

They were a match in strength and size, though Bucky was shorter than him by an inch or two. Steve nudged Bucky back, and muttered, “Jerk,” before they got to the common floor. Bruce, Scott, and Clint were all sprawled out in oversized sofas watching the latest episode of Game of Thrones; Sam, Rhodey, and Pietro were chilling near the bar, while Tony was helping Pepper and Wanda with dinner. Since this was a school night, Peter was absent. Thor wasn’t there either, but that wasn’t that odd.

He had enough issues with Asgard right now.

When Sam noted that the boys were back, he headed over to talk to them. “So how did it go?” He asked, and Bucky scowled mutinously, folding his arms across his chest, but didn’t say anything. Steve was left then to explain things. Once he was done, Sam arched a brow and looked over at Bucky assessingly. 

When Bucky scowled even more, Sam nodded slowly. “Glad to know that I am not the only one that that has happened to. You know, that whole ripping the steering wheel out of your car thing.”

Steve figured he’d better dispel the situation before it got worse, so he steered a very irritated Bucky out of Sam’s personal bubble and got him to sit his ass down on a bar stool. He absently handed him one of those plush stress balls (Bucky had destroyed a thousand by now) and handed him a candy bar. Bucky was always partial to sweets, especially chocolate bars.

Grunting softly, Bucky squished the strange yellow looking stress ball and muttered, “I still don’t get how these are supposed to relieve stress. I’ve destroyed enough to know that they don’t hold up well under stress.”

“Just knead it like a cat for a while, Buck. And if you still feel bad after dinner, we can go work out in the gym downstairs,” Steve offered, keeping out of people’s hair by sitting down next to Bucky. 

“That… that actually sounds great, Stevie,” Bucky admitted, letting out a deep breath, finally starting to feel tension ease from his body.

Steve always seemed to know how to calm down Bucky - when he wasn’t actually infuriated and in a rant or die spell. Bucky honestly didn’t know what he would do without Steve. The thought made him squeeze the stress ball harder, but then Steve up and took hold of his metal hand, and Bucky smiled a bit at the act.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much for all the responses to my lil fic! Your kudos and comments have made me smile, so thank you from the bottom of my crazy heart. This chapter has Bucky getting a bit more volatile, and some measures have to be discussed. But, don't worry, the poor dear will get through this! (Eventually). Enjoy more crack, and a bit more angst. Hope you all like!

### 

2.

 

“Steve… did you just sEe tHat?” 

“Yes, I did, Bucky.”

“Who even does that? You had the right of way! That motherfucker didn’t even _stop_!”

“Bucky.”

“And what is with this fucking piece of -

_“Turn right at the next exit in 1000 feet off of -”_

“You know what, probably could have taken an actual map instead of using this annoying asinine garbage compactor of a -”

_“Recalculating different faster route. Make a U-turn.”_

“Oh fuck now it wants us to turn _around_? Steve, I am so going to end Tony when we get back so help me -”

_“Make a U-turn.”_

“Oh MY FUCKING _GOD_! WE ALREADY _DID_ **ASSHOLE**! AND I AM _TALKING_ RIGHT NOW YOU RUDE SON OF A _CUNT SPACE NEMO FUCKWAD NECRO_ -”

_“I do not know where ‘Asshole’ is. Would you like me to google a route?”_

“Bucky. Don’t you _dare_ throw that cell phone out the window!”

“IT’S A **CONSPIRACY!** IBS OR WHATEVER THEY CALL IT HAS A TOTAL _‘TUDE_ NOW!”

“Jesus, Bucky, calm _DOWN_. And it’s GPS not IBS.”

_“Recalculating route. Make a U-turn. Turn right. Make a U-turn. Make a U-turn. Make a -”_

The sound of something crumpling under pressure was heard before blessed silence filled the truck Steve was currently driving.

Steve rolled his eyes and muttered softly, “Well, guess I have to stop at a gas station for a map now. Thanks, Bucky. And save your own phone battery because we might need it if there’s a call for a mission.”

“Serves that _cocksucker_ right being so friggin _annoying_. Not my fault they make things so damned expensive and breakable nowadays!” Bucky snarled, idly taking a few deep breaths to unclench his metal fist from around the now miserably wrecked phone that looked two inches from being torn into three pieces, not to mention having one hell of a shattered screen. 

“Stupid fucking weakling of a robot!” Bucky fumed, feeling a flush run over his face when he noted that Steve was trying really hard not to smile. “It’s not funny, Steve.”

“Oh yes, yes it is,” Steve said, before he started chuckling. “You know, I knew you were a bit of a grumpy backseat driver - even almost rivaling Tony, but I don’t think I’ve seen you argue with Siri yet. That, was priceless to hear. And man, Bucky, you have quite the cussing vocabulary.”

“Well, I am glad that I amuse you. Plus, you learn a lot of bad vocabulary on missions as the Winter Soldier. In several different languages, so _bite me_. And who the fuck is _SIRI_?” Bucky mumbled. A minute later, it dawned on him and he joined in the laughter. Once he sobered he asked pointedly, “Ok to chuck this piece of shit technology out the window now? Since I kind of killed SIRI and it’s device it was attached to?”

“No. Better to go ahead and keep it so it can be fixed.” Steve pulled into a gas station and while he was topping off the tank, he caught Bucky red handed stomping all over the phone behind the truck. “Oh my god, _Bucky_. What was that for?”

“Well, it’s not like Tony needs for us to bring it back in one piece - you know how he _is_. His version of 'fixing' things is to recycle them for parts or buy something _new_. I am just making sure it’s good and crushed for him so he doesn’t have to use a recycler.” Bucky gave Steve such a wide eyed innocent look that Steve wasn’t fooled one bit.

“Well, I think it’s great that you are thinking of the environment Bucky, so why don’t I go inside and get you a bag to put the mess in while I get the map?” Steve offered, trying hard not to grin when Bucky suddenly looked a bit guilty.

When Bucky didn’t say anything, Steve sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. “You never could lie to me, Bucky. I know you too well.”

Bucky swallowed thickly and muttered, “I’m sorry - but for trying to lie. Not for crushing that goddamned annoying _craptacular_ contraption. I know it was your phone but…. Just so we are clear. I can always get you a new one.”

_You mean you’ll pester Tony to get you one so you can give it to me. But, it’s the thought that counts._ Steve nodded, this time letting out a deep chuckle. “I’ll ask for a broom to sweep up the glass at least.”

“Thanks, Stevie.” 

The trip up to Philly didn’t see any more issues on the road, so that was a blessing for both Bucky and Steve. Bucky seemed to feel much better, now that he had a handy dandy road map that he could look at. His family hadn’t traveled much when he’d been a kid, not being really able to afford that sort of luxury, so this definitely was a treat. Plus, him keeping an eye on the map proved to be a good distraction.

Even when they got into the outskirts of New York, where road construction was ensuring motorists had a bunch of fun obstacle courses to go through (and subsequent rolling road blocks in front of them), Bucky didn’t bat an eyelid except for when going over one pothole that went so far down you probably could end back out in China. Of course, the cursing blue streak ensued, but even Steve was a bit irritated at that big ass pothole. 

However, once Steve opted to put on a CD that Pepper had given Bucky to use on the trip, the former Winter Soldier found himself yawning. It’s a damned good thing that Bucky had had at least three cups of coffee before him and Steve had set out from the Avenger’s tower. Otherwise he might have already been zonked out drooling and doing that rolling head bob like some demented bobble headed toy.

“What’s with the classical music?” Steve asked after a moment, putting his foot on the gas once they were out of the construction zone.

Bucky blinked a few times and shook himself a bit before answering. “Pepper said it was supposed to be calming. You know, like how classical or smooth jazz sort of calms down horses or some shit like that? I might not be a horse, but it sure as hell is putting me to sleep.”

_You might not be a horse, but you might be hung like a horse, if those pants say anything about your crotch space,_ Steve thought, and then blushed a curious shade of puce. Where in the hell did that thought come from? Coughing slightly, and trying to keep his brain on other things - since _obviously_ Bucky didn’t feel that way about him, Steve said, “Can’t have that. I need you awake for directions, Buck. We could always put in something Clint recommended. It’s in the glove compartment.”

“Clint is getting you to listen to some stuff?” Bucky teased, grinning a bit at Steve’s embarrassed pinkening at the tips of his ears.

“Yea, well, at least he’s trying,” Steve admitted. “His music tastes are kind of… different and lively.” That was definitely one way of putting it.

“Better than this shit. The next time I have insomnia I’ll put _this_ on,” Bucky said pointedly, taking out the CD successfully and putting in the other one just as carefully.

The song that popped on wasn’t too bad at first, but then some dude started growl-shouting in German, his voice so gutteral it nearly made Bucky both want to shoot the goddamn speakers out and go fuck something or kill something. “What the fuck is that _racket_? Clint likes this and he calls it _music_? Why am I not surprised since the poor guy is _stone_ **deaf** without his ear buds in?! THIS IS _SO_ NOT CALMING, STEVE!”

Steve turned it down a few notches and snickered. “Told you it was a bit different and lively. The band is called Rammstein. And great, it’ll keep you awake.”

After getting used to all the shouting and growling from the speakers and at smaller decibels, Bucky started humming and jamming to the songs albeit a bit unwillingly. Hey, at least the music was good, and the lead singer seemed to growl not annoyingly, so maybe Clint was on to something. Still, this would be the type of music to jam to on a fucking mission when he wanted to be pumped up, ready to fight and murder, not on a road trip to see a baseball game. 

He even caught Steve start tapping his foot to the beat on one song and started laughing in spite of himself. Steve arched a brow and snorted. “What are you laughing about?”

“You. Just… God, just _you_ ,” Was all Bucky could articulate. Another song came on and Bucky started laughing again, causing Steve to start doing the same. 

Maybe the music wasn’t the best choice for a road trip, but Bucky was forever thankful that Clint had suggested it to Steve. He hadn’t laughed that hard in so long, he had forgotten what it felt like to truly feel free enough to let it all go. And it was so nice to Steve laughing with him. God, he had missed this. It made Bucky almost want things that probably he shouldn’t. 

Once they got to Philly, Bucky said to Steve, “I am so putting that on my mission playlist and if anyone says anything I will punch their lights out.”

“You do you, Bucky. And I could definitely see that kind of music pretty well in a fight,” Steve agreed.

### 

Parking at the Citizens Bank Park Stadium was _interesting_.

And that was putting it mildly. They had arrived pretty early before the game, so they had plenty of time to both find parking and explore a bit of the sights before lining up at the gate. “Steve, there is a spot right there.”

“It’s too small for the truck.” 

“What about that one?”

“It’s handicap.”

“What about the one over there.”

“Bucky, that’s for emergency personnel only and first responders.”

“Well we are first responders in a way, since we are you know, part of the Avengers!”

“Bucky, no. We aren’t ambulances.”

“Well why the fuck didn’t you say so in the first place, wise guy?”

“Who are you calling wise guy, jerkface? Just, let’s park here and be done with it.”

“Oh my god, that broad is pulling out. Why is she pulling out like that? Her SUV ain’t going to survive going around that car! Yep. Dame lost a tail light. I am so not surprised.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

“WHAT THE _ACTUAL_ **FLYING FUCK** IS SHE DOING _LEAVING_ THE SCENE OF THE CRIME WHEN THERE ARE **LITERAL** CAMERAS WATCHING THIS _GODDAMN_ PARKING LOT?! Steve, we so aren’t that stupid!”

Steve gave in to a long suffering sigh as he watched Bucky waltz over to where the woman was trying to turn out of the parking lot and winced when his best friend started hollering at her. The woman then proceeded to flip him off and try to leave.

“Oh god, I can’t take you _anywhere_ , can I, Bucky?” Steve muttered before he headed towards the ensued shouting match. “Bucky, _NO_!” He hollered as he watched Bucky go and smash a fist into the woman’s other tail light and then proceeded to drag the squealing vehicle back to the parking space the woman had been at before punching holes in both back tires with a metal fist, all the while the girl was panicking and screaming bloody murder.

“NEXT TIME DON’T LEAVE THE SCENE OF A CRIME YOU POOR EXCUSE FOR A DAME! You bust shit, you wait on your pretty little ass until 1) the owner of the vehicle you broke comes back, or 2) you leave a fucking note with your info on it so they can call your insurance! But something tells me that you are too stupid to even _have_ car insurance!”

The woman started screaming more and Steve ended up face palming, before absently reaching into Bucky’s back butt pocket for his phone so he could call Tony or Law enforcement before this got any uglier.

Bucky was distracted a bit but heard something rude from the woman inside the damaged vehicle and started hollering until he was practically apoplectic. “Oh, SO YOU THINK _I_ AM AN ASSHOLE? You’re right on the nail honey, but at LEAST I HAVE BEEN PRETTY DAMN CIVIL WITH THE _NAME_ CALLING! MY MAMMA TAUGHT ME BETTER BUT FUCK ARE YOU PUSHING IT _MISS BETTY BOOP_!”

### 

An hour later…..

 

“I really can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Steve asked, finally sitting down from getting food and drinks from the concessions. Luckily the woman wasn’t going to press charges once she figured out just who she had managed to piss off and who his friends were. Still, that had been definitely a disaster. The police had actually been pretty civil to Bucky too, so that was a plus.

Bucky pouted and nibbled on his dip n dots. Steve had got pretty good seats, to be honest, and Bucky was actually getting excited for the game. He sighed softly and admitted, “I guess not. I just… I can’t stand people not following the rules when safety is concerned. I don’t know why I let it get to me.”

“You care too much, that’s why Bucky. Sometimes that’s a good thing, and other times, not so much. You are going to dig yourself a grave if you keep it up.” Steve didn’t like putting salt in old wounds, but in this case, he was a bit frustrated. Steve might have the patience of a saint, but even he had his limits. “Those cops were pretty lenient, considering, but what about the next time? Or the one after that? I...just… I worry about you, ok?”

Talk about one fuck dump of a guilt trip. But, Bucky knew he deserved it. With a loud sigh, he opted to share the last of his mint chip dip n dots as a peace offering. “I will drive home, and I promise I won’t holler, or do anything dangerous to anyone on the way home. And if I do, you can take my keys away. How’s that?”

Steve swallowed a lump in his throat and huffed out his own sigh. “You know what? How about this. I let you drive once we are out of Philly-”

“No, Steve. Come on, I gotta do this. Please. Let me start proving myself,” Bucky said, turning on the full martyr look - the one he knew got Steve in his trap. He hardly ever used it, which is why it worked so fucking well.

“Ok, but once we get back, you are going to start going to those counselling sessions that Pepper picked out, and we are going to find something to destress you. Believe it or not, I am not the only one worried about you. Peter suggested you try some Mario Kart or game of some sort to help with the aggression.” Steve reached over and put an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, watching him clench his metal fist a few times and hearing the soft whirring noise as he did so.

Bucky thought it over for a bit before he slowly nodded. “Ok, I’ll do it. Didn’t mean to worry people so much.”

“We care about you, Buck. Maybe someday you’ll actually realize it,” Steve said, giving his friend a squeeze before letting go to take up the last of the dip n dots. He could see why Bucky was so crazy about those things. They tasted delicious.

After wolfing down a few hotdogs and the absolute biggest thing of nachos Bucky had ever seen in his life, he started feeling better. And once the game started, both men relaxed and put their mind to it, and not matters of road rage or any other kind of fury that drove Bucky. They could solve this. It wouldn’t be a solution delved overnight, but there would be one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About the only thing that made him REMOTELY feel better was pranking Sam once he got back about an hour ago, changing the poor man’s ringtone again (he did, in fact, know how to do that on cellphones) - only this time to _Broken Wings_ by Mr. Mister. Sam had nearly flipped his shit when Bucky had done it the first time with _Jesus Take the Wheel_ by Carrie Underwood. Sam of course, always got Bucky back, but it was amusing coming up with new pranks.
> 
> Now, however, he scowled, mood dampened both by Tony’s harmless question and also the contents in the pantry. “The fuck is with all this _Spam_?” Bucky growled, absently chucking one tin at Tony, who calmly sidestepped, unfazed. “Stuff is gross.”
> 
> The tin collided with the side of a wall behind Tony and actually got stuck in the siding, making a nice sized hole in the expensive drywall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter! Been uber busy with work stuff, but now that I have passed my exam, I have way more time to chill and zen and write / art. Thank you all again for your kudos and comments! Please continue! They help me smile and work harder on further chapters. Without further ado, here is some more crack and a bit of angst thrown in ;)

### 

3.

 

"So, should I even ask you how Therapy is going?" Tony asked randomly the next week. He was currently in the kitchen, idly fiddling with some sort of important looking piece of electronics while waiting for his coffee to get done.

Bucky had been able to get Steve and himself back home in one piece after the game, though he nearly put permanent dents into Steve's truck's steering wheel in the process. He'd even signed up for Therapy, regardless that he felt like taking out his own goddamned eye with a fork before the first session, which just so happened to have been held this morning. Steve had offered to drive him, but Bucky had walked the entire five miles to and from by himself just so he could get some of his fried nerves out of the way.

The meeting itself wasn’t so bad, despite being on edge the entire time. The Therapist was pretty good at her job - of course if Pepper referred him to her, the woman definitely _HAD_ to be, but it took almost the whole two hour session for Bucky to loosen up enough to talk, much less coherently and without much of a bite in his gruff bark. And yea, these Therapy sessions would have to go on for a while before Bucky was even remotely thinking he’d start to feel better, but at least one meeting was under his belt. 

A lot of folks feel relieved after a session. Not Bucky though. Of fucking _course_ , he’d have to be the type of person with enough issues to make any sane person want to put THEMSELVES in a padded cell with a straight jacket to boot, and regardless of venting a bit to get some stress off his chest, Bucky felt kind of well, empty afterwards. Not relieved. Just empty.

Like, he knew for a fact that the only reason why the therapist was acting all caring and non biased about him was because Tony was PAYING her to be that way. Maybe it wasn’t like that in reality, but it still made Bucky feel kind of shitty. He didn’t know what exactly to expect going to a session like that, but disappointment wasn’t on the menu. So, he kind of felt cheated, yea, and a bit tired. Just tired and empty.

All that anger and frustration was _EXHAUSTING_. 

About the only thing that made him REMOTELY feel better was pranking Sam once he got back about an hour ago, changing the poor man’s ringtone again (he did, in fact, know how to do that on cellphones) - only this time to _Broken Wings_ by Mr. Mister. Sam had nearly flipped his shit when Bucky had done it the first time with _Jesus Take the Wheel_ by Carrie Underwood. Sam of course, always got Bucky back, but it was amusing coming up with new pranks.

Now, however, he scowled, mood dampened both by Tony’s harmless question and also the contents in the pantry. “The fuck is with all this _Spam_?” Bucky growled, absently chucking one tin at Tony, who calmly sidestepped, unfazed. “Stuff is gross.”

The tin collided with the side of a wall behind Tony and actually got stuck in the siding, making a nice sized hole in the expensive drywall. 

“What is the deal with hating on spam? It’s practically a food group and delicacy in some states.” Tony sidestepped again when his question was met with first mutinous silence and then second when another thrown tin flew accurately in his direction. “Seriously, it's like you have something against SPAM. I'm almost slightly terrified to find out the reason,” Tony deadpanned in between small circuit work. “And you are evading about the Therapy.”

Bucky scowled, and rooted around the pantry, finding every single tin of spam - a total of sixteen tins of it, piled it up on the counter and took out one of his glocks hidden on his person, aiming at it.

“Woa, woa, woa, _Tarzan_ , remember what I told you about target practice? Yea, take your guns and toys down to the third floor firing gym before Pepper filets me alive.” Tony let out a sigh when Bucky pouted, but put away his gun. 

“I hate _spam_. I **hate** therapy. I hate _idiots_.” Bucky rubbed his face, mood souring even more.

“Big mood on the last two, but oh well. You like Steve though, right?” Tony said, arching a knowing eyebrow.

Tony should have kept his big mouth shut.

After Bucky left the room in a murderous huff, and smoke cleared the area, Tony gave the pile of abused rubble that used to be tins of spam a sympathetic look. “Clint is so not going to be happy.”

### 

“What the actual fuck?” Clint blinked at the mess of his favorite lunches piled in a biohazard bin later on. 

Nat shrugged. “Bucky hates spam. Maybe next time keep it in your room if you don’t want it all ending up in a pile of smokey rubble or stuck again in a wall?”

“What’s wrong with spam? I happen to _LIKE_ spam!” Clint defended, pouting as he watched one of Tony’s bots tug out a tin from the wall. 

Nat just patted him on the shoulder in sympathy before saying, “You _really_ don’t want to know that answer.”

### 

Steve found Bucky in the common room at ass o’clock in the morning because why not? The moody former Winter Soldier was having issues not sleeping, and Steve felt comforted - a teensy weensy bit - that he wasn’t the only one with insomnia. The captain plopped down next to Bucky on one of the big sofas, absently noting that his best buddy was basically imitating a burrito, complete with several blankets staring blankly at the TV with some cheesy horror movie on. 

After a moment or two of reflection, Steve offered, “Want some popcorn?”

“Extra butter?” Bucky rumbled, ironically sounding like that fake dog voice on one of those Beggin Commercials. 

“Always,” Steve confirmed, reaching over to pat Bucky on the head, smirking when the man leaned into his touch. The man got up and made his way to the kitchenette, opening the pantry to pull out some popcorn to put in the microwave. Most days he popped corn on the stove, of which fascinated most of the younger generation, but when it was this early in the morning and he was beyond exhausted - too tired to sleep or haunted by nightmares or both - Steve settled for the convenient. 

He took out a couple of sodas, ignoring Nat’s voice in the back of his mind complaining over health and how much soda would damage a normal person, and waited while the bag of popcorn worked it’s magic. Scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly, Steve tried not thinking about his recent nightmare that had plagued him earlier. And so, _naturally_ , his brain went right into the gutter and wallowed in the thoughts and desires of one best friend.

With a soft muffled sigh, Steve wondered what in the hell he was going to do about the whole “Bucky is hot” problem, which was also related to the whole “I wanna fuck my best friend or be fucked by them” problem. It was growing into a big ass elephant chained to his ever waking thoughts when he wasn’t dealing with stress about everything else in his life. Steve was trying to do what he always did - ignored this sort of “feelings” problem until it went away, but somehow he knew that it wasn’t going to be that easy this time.

It would be so much easier if he knew how Bucky felt. 

Or at least how he felt about their relationship.

Damn, Steve’s thoughts were starting to sound presumptuous. There was no _“relationship.”_ Romantically.

But, that didn’t mean that he didn’t exactly want one. That traitorous voice inside of him that sounded an awful lot like a mix of Tony and Nat was kind of creeping him out, to be honest. But, then again, Steve shouldn’t really be that surprised. 

Going through the motions of putting the popcorn into a bowl, Steve juggled his load with the two sodas and napkins, and rejoined with Bucky on the sofa. Bucky managed to resemble more of a human being by digging himself out of his burrito cocoon of blankets to snatch up an offered soda and a handful of napkins.

Once settled, the two buddies shared the popcorn and watched the horror flick for a while.

It didn’t take long for the popcorn to be completely consumed, and Steve almost wondered if he should have made two bowls, but then Bucky answered that one with curling up into his side, mumbling something about being too cold. Steve smiled and allowed the cuddling, rubbing Bucky’s arms tenderly.

He had it _bad_.

So bad.

But, Steve wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it, if anything.

Bucky deserved so much better.

With a soft sigh, Steve figured he’d deal with things later, when his brain wasn’t overtired.

But, if he reached up to tuck Bucky more into his chest and arms after the other man started snoring, that was nobody’s business besides his own.

### 

“GET BACK HERE YOU STUPID _COCKROACH!_ DID THAT LIGHT **LOOK** _GREEN_ TO YOU?! THAT’S _RIGHT_ , IT **WASN’T** , YOU PUNK ASS _BITCH!_ ” Bucky roared, flipping the moron in the little green sports car off as he started crossing the street. “GET YOUR FUCKING EYES CHECKED! PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT AWAY WHEN THE LITTLE _WHITE_ MAN DUDE SIGN IS LIT! IT MIGHT BE **RACIST** AND _SEXIST_ BUT IT IS THE SIGN YOU _DUMBASS!_ ”

Steve shook his head and facepalmed as he got to the other side, his other hand laden down with groceries. He turned to look at Bucky and said pointedly, “Bucky….”

Bucky scowled, standing in the middle of the crosswalk, still glowering in the direction of the green sports car, which was long gone by now. Then he jumped nearly a foot in the air when some old guy honked at him and had the _gall_ to throw a cigarette butt at him out of the window of his big Ford pickup truck. 

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Steve cursed softly, causing Sam to start snickering.

“Damn, I do admit, _that_ was **rude** ,” Tony muttered, watching in shock as Bucky just gave the guy a glower before heading the whole way across the street towards them, grumbling to himself about not enough chlorine in the gene pool these days. 

“Cockroach. That's a good one. I need to start writing these down.” Tony arched an impressed brow at Bucky. “You know, I've never met anyone that is as much a _smartass_ as me. If I wasn't with Pepper and you didn't have Captain Stars and Stripes in Tights gunning your tail, I'd be really partial.”

“Shut it, Tony,” Bucky snarled quietly, flushing scarlet, before he reached over, grabbed Steve’s bag of groceries and started stalking towards the hotel they were currently staying in.

Their latest mission had been a success, but due to bad weather in New York, they were grounded until the next day for flights. That meant they were stuck in Dallas, Texas of all places, and though Tony would have ordered room service for everyone at this five star hotel they were in, Steve had insisted on going a cheaper route of just getting some sandwich meat, bread, and cheese along with some fixings for their dinner.

So, Sam, Tony, Steve, and Bucky had walked a few blocks over from their hotel to the grocery store to get it all and haul it back. It would help stretch their tired muscles, and get their minds on something mundane to do. The others opted to make use of the hotel’s pool and heated spa for the time being. 

Steve gave Tony a look that caused him to instantly say, “What? I was being honest.”

“Tony, just be quiet while you are ahead,” Sam advised quietly.

Tony gave Sam an affronted look, but took his advice until they got back to the hotel. 

“I am proud of you, Bucky,” Steve told his best friend once they were finally alone in their shared hotel room.

“You shouldn’t be. I still lost my head,” Bucky mumbled, idly putting together the biggest looking ham and steak hoagie sandwich he could, complete with pickles, harvati, and green bell peppers. God, he was hungry.

“Yea, well, you didn’t pipe off at that rude asshole that flicked a cigarette at you,” Steve stated pointedly, reaching out and snatching up a stray pepper to pop into his mouth. 

“No, but the thing is… I got his license plate number. I was going to text it to Clint so he could arrow the guy’s tires, but… maybe it’s just not worth it,” Bucky admitted, pausing to take a huge bite out of his sandwich. Moaning in almost orgasmic pleasure, the man enjoyed his food for a bit before he offered, “Therapist says that I should think of what those assholes might be going through in their life. Granted, some people are just assholes, but others might be having really horrible days, or lots of stress on their minds that they just can’t concentrate right when it comes to driving. Doesn’t make it ok what they are doing, but it does help thinking that.”

“Well, I am glad she is giving good advice. A lot of people do stupid stuff when they are distracted,” Steve agreed. After he got his own sandwich devoured, he admitted, “That guy really was kind of rude, though.”

“ _Tell_ me about it,” Bucky groaned. “Steve….”

“What?”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“.....”

“Bucky….”

“Please?”

“I am not sanctioning any violence, Buck.”

Bucky pouted, but got over it. He could always text Clint later once Steve went to sleep.

Turns out he didn’t have to. Bucky got a text not long after they finished dinner from Tony showing a picture of the asshole’s truck missing it’s front axle and then a little message about Cap giving him the license plate number, and he grinned. When Steve asked what he was smiling about, Bucky just shrugged and said he got a nice message from a friend, and that was all.

It was comforting to know that his friends had his back. 

Either that or _he_ was just rubbing off on all of **them**.

### 

The next morning, Bucky got a very unexpected call. He scowled, puzzled, not quite understanding why the fuck _Allstate Insurance_ was calling him. At first he thought it was a complaint or something to that nature and almost put them through to Tony to handle, but then the man on the other end of the line said something that really blew his mind.

“You want to… what?” Bucky asked, distractedly walking around their hotel room in nothing but a white towel, which hung low on his hips.

Steve was currently taking his own shower and Bucky should have been getting dressed, but if this call was legit and not some prank call, then damn.

 _“We’d like to offer you a possible job, Sergeant Barnes. You know of our Mayhem commercials which are a smash hit, correct?”_

“Yea, the dude always cracks me up,” Bucky admitted, rubbing his face. How in the fuck did these people manage to get his number anyways?

_“Well, we were thinking of maybe pairing you up with Mayhem for driver’s safety commercials, and if you are willing, we could also have you and Meyhem both co-instruct a Driver’s Ed class for kids and adults that can be filmed and put in classrooms around New York. It’s non profit, and funded by Allstate, and if we get enough viewers, then maybe we can also have you do physical appearances - but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”_

Bucky arched a brow and plopped down on the edge of a king sized bed. “Shoot Miss Pepper Potts an email with all the particulars and I will discuss with her on if I can do it or not. It’s not that I don’t want to, it sounds pretty amazing to be honest. But, I got my team to think about, and all that crap.”

_“No problem, Sergeant Barnes. We fully understand your tight schedule and will email Miss Potts directly. If you need to reach us at any time with questions, don’t hesitate to call…..”_

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind,” Bucky said, hanging up the phone and getting lost in thought.

When Steve came out of the bathroom looking like the amazing dorito shaped specimen he was, Bucky nearly got blind sided. Swallowing carefully, he felt lust race through him and had to stammer out about the call.

Steve fluffed up his hair idly, totally oblivious to Bucky’s plight and nodded. “That actually sounds like a good idea, Buck. Haven’t you been saying that if people, not just kids learned the effects of their actions before they happened, that maybe they wouldn’t be so stupid or dangerous on the road?”

“Yea, but Stevie, I just started _Therapy_ sessions. It might be a good idea, but I want Doc Larsen’s opinion on it, too.” Bucky let out a breath in a whoosh. Why did his life have to be so goddamn complicated?

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve affirmed, tugging off his wet towel to tug on some clothes, nearly mooning Bucky in the process - of which he so didn’t mind.

Steve had a fine ass.

For _sure_.

Still, Bucky was starting to have a bit of a problem, and he huffed softly, ripping his eyes away from his best friend’s hot body to concentrate on dressing himself. 

And if Steve glanced over at him a few times while Bucky was unawares, that was just the way things went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this is not a perfect world, and if Allstate did in fact hire Seb to do commercials alongside Mayhem, I'd lose it. I would fucking lose my mind. But, anyways, hope you liked that tidbit.


End file.
